


I Can Be Your Rock Hudson

by gilligankane



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-15
Updated: 2009-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-17 09:39:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike, to his credit, catches on. “You want us to be your beards.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Be Your Rock Hudson

Santana takes charge quickly.

 _The best defense is a good offense_  she thinks.  _And I’m good at that_.

“Here’s the plan,” she declares, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly, daring the two boys to question her authority.

Surprisingly, or maybe not, Matt and Mike stay silent, just waiting to hear what she has to say.

“You two are going to date the two of us.”

Brittany squeaks from the door, where’s she’s standing guard, because if Sue Sylvester caught  _boys_  in the locker room, she’d have Santana and Brittany’s pretty heads on a platter.

Mike lifts up in his seat, mouth ready to protest, but Matt tugs him back frantically and Santana wants to laugh, but she has this entire routine planned and it doesn’t involve breaking character.

“S,” Brittany starts from the doorway, but a locker slams in the hall and her attention is pulled back to the door and she peers out curiously.

Santana can’t help but think that she should have given Brittany lessons in subtly, because if anyone sees her with her head out the door, looking left and right and left again, they’re going to come right in here and figure everything out.

God forbid its Quinn. Or Rachel…

“Anyway,” she continues, shaking herself out of her thoughts. “We seem to find ourselves in the same unique situation.”

Mike scoffs, leaning back against the lockers. “What are you talking about?”

“Your,” she pauses dramatically and sniffs, “ _extra-curricular activities_.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because Brittany snaps back around and she pouts – she knows what  _extra-curricular activities_  means. “Are you two having sex too?”

 _God_ , Santana thinks.  _Subtly, subtly, subtly._

Mike’s eyes are as wide as saucers and Matt’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, but Santana cants one hip and smirks, inordinately pleased with herself.

There had been a tiny part of her, earlier this morning, that was nervous and hesitant, because really, it could have been  _anyone_  in those football jersey’s yesterday, sitting too close and talking too low – it could have been  _Puck and Finn_  for all she knew – but she spent all night debating and plotting and planning and decided that it  _had_  to be Mike and Matt; they act just like she acts with Brittany.

It’s not hard to put and two together.

“What do you want?” Mike asks, but before Santana can answer, he frowns. “Wait, what do you mean are we having sex  _too_?”

Now Santana blushes, biting her bottom lip and resisting the urge to turn and run. The door to the locker room closes loudly and then Brittany is standing next to her in a flurry of blond hair and blue eyes, smiling widely at the boys and curling her arm around Santana’s.

“We won’t tell,” she promises.

“Yes we will,” Santana snaps. The relief spreading on Mike’s face comes to an abrupt halt.

Brittany’s body presses closer to hers. A defined jaw rests on her shoulder and she can feel Brittany’s breath hitting her skin behind her ear. “Why would we do that?” she asks in a whisper.

“Because,” Santana hisses, turning her head only a little. If she turns it too much, Brittany’s face will be too close and it’s unfair, because Brittany – although she has no idea, or maybe she does and if that’s true, she plays dumb even better than anyone thought – is temptation wrapped in a cheerleader’s uniform with just the right amount of skin showing.

She turns back to the boys with a calculated smirk Sue would have been proud of. “We have a proposition for you.”

“I’m not sleeping with you,” Matt practically shrieks.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Or Brittany,” he continues, flashing an apologetic smile at the girl in question.

Brittany’s chin is dislodged from her shoulder as she takes a step forward, baring her teeth and giving a low growl. “Stay away from her.”

Hands pull at her shoulders and she settles back into her stance, hands on her hips, glaring. Brittany whispers “sorry” at Matt over Santana’s shoulder, but Matt refuses to make eye contact with either of them.

She’s sure she just scared the voice out of him.

“As I was saying, we have a proposition for you. Our situations aren’t conducive to our environment at the moment,” she says, turning back when Brittany pokes her in the ribcage. “I mean,” she tries again, “we live in Lima. In Ohio. And we have certain images to uphold. We’re cheerleaders and you’re football players and this isn’t some weird after-school special.”

Mike, to his credit, catches on. “You want us to be your beards.”

Santana nods, somewhat grateful that she’s not going to have to beg them to do this. She’s not even sure what she would do if they said no, because she’s not going back to Puck – and sexting doesn’t count, it’s just that Brittany doesn’t understand the concept and sometimes Santana is bored, but doesn’t mean anything by it – and she’s not giving up Brittany, for anyone.

“Obviously there would be rules. No grabbing,” she says, glaring at Matt. “No kissing on the mouth, only holding hands in the hallway when absolutely necessary. We’ll arrive at parities separately and leave with the people we came with,” she continues.

She has a detailed list of conditions that Rachel Berry would be jealous of. It’s color-coded and labeled and the pages are numbered. There are dates circled where they’ll have to make an appearance; days boxed off for double dates they can go on; weekends shaded in as time off.

Matt and Mike look at each other, having some silent conversation that Santana neither understands nor cares about. Brittany’s chin is on her shoulder again and the side of her face is pressed against Santana’s ear and she’s humming “Push It” under her breath, but Santana doesn’t care because Brittany’s hands are tight against her waist, cool fingers pressing into the small slit of skin that is stuck between her shirt and her top.

Finally, the boys look back at them. Mike raises an eyebrow but Santana feels Brittany smile and no one can’t not smile back at her so Mike does, setting his mouth in a thin line when he turns back to Santana.

“Fine,” he mutters. “We’re in.”

Brittany lets out a  _“cool”_  andSantana smirks, grabbing one of Brittany’s hands in her own and turning towards the door. Brittany skips out, stopping in the doorway, her eyes lighting up as she yells “Quinn!” down the hallway.

Santana turns back to the boys in the couch. “You keep our secret,” she warns, “And I’ll keep yours.”

Mike nods resolutely and Santana ignores that his hand is tangled up with Matt’s on the metal bench because she wonders if she and Brittany look that pathetically involved with each other.

“Oh,” she says, ducking her head back into the room, keeping her eyes squeezed tight, just in case. She’s glad she does, because she hears a small scuffle and then Mike is clearing his throat.

“Yeah?”

She peeks one eye open, then the other and tilts her head to the left, grinning. “Make sure Sue doesn’t catch you in here. She’ll take all the fun,” she says with a pointed glance down, “out of your relationship.”


End file.
